


Prince Mitch and the Seven Leafs

by MeansToOffend (goodmorning)



Series: 31 in 31: NHL Fairy Tales [26]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M, Toronto Maple Leafs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 01:32:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12223029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorning/pseuds/MeansToOffend
Summary: “'Mirror, mirror, on the wall,'To which of us will the kingdom fall?'”





	Prince Mitch and the Seven Leafs

Once upon a time in mid-April in the kingdom of Toronto came the typical late-season snowfall. The king and queen of Toronto were therefore spending the day indoors, but the queen wished to open the window to better feel the winter’s last gasp. In so doing, she cut her finger, and as a few drops of blood landed on the sill, King Matt said:

“I hope our child is as white as the snow, as red as your blood, and as brown as this hickory windowsill.”

And, when the child was born, he was all of those things indeed.

The years passed, and Mitch, for that was his name, grew up a happy child. His smile caused all who saw him to smile back, his infectious air of fun lifted spirits the kingdom over, and he was always ready with a joke to cheer up someone who was down.

But when he was sixteen, his parents died, and his uncle took the throne as regent. This uncle was a small man with a wrinkled face. Despite this, he was proud and arrogant, for he was a sorcerer of no small power who fully intended to take the throne for himself.

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,  
“To which of us will the kingdom fall?”

“My king, you have power, but that can’t defeat  
“The true heir of the kingdom, so kind and so sweet.”

At this, the prince regent became furious, and formulated a plot. A few months before Prince Mitch’s eighteenth birthday, he finally put it in motion.

He summoned the head huntsman. “Bozak, take Mitch out into the woods. I never want to see him again.”

“Are you saying-” the huntsman attempted to ask, but the prince regent cut him off.

“Kill him, and bring me his liver as proof.”

The huntsman bowed his head, not able to trust to words, and went directly to Mitch. “Want to go play a little hockey?” he asked, hoping Mitch would say no.

But Mitch did not. “Tyler, man, you look pretty rough. I’d be happy to play some, and you can tell me what’s wrong while we’re out there if you want.”

And so the two of them geared up and went into the frozen woods. When they reached the pond and Mitch’s back was turned, the huntsman went for his knife. But Mitch just kept chattering away, oblivious to the danger, trying to cheer him up. He couldn’t do it.

“Mitch,” he said, taking the prince’s shoulder. 

His eyes widened when he turned and saw the knife. “Is that why you were being weird?” And he leaned in and gave the huntsman a hug.

“Mitch, you have to get out of here. Your uncle’s going to kill you if you don’t.”

“Thank you for warning me,” the prince said, seriously, and walked into the woods.

A deer ran by, and the huntsman felled it, bringing its liver back to the prince regent as though it had been Mitch’s. He ate it, and laughed, thinking how nice it was that the kingdom was all his at last.

Meanwhile Mitch, the poor child, was still trekking through the woods, hoping to find someplace to stay before dark. He was more than a little worried he might freeze when the afternoon gave itself over to frozen nighttime. At last, though, he came upon a tiny cottage amidst the trees, and went in to rest.

Inside, the decor was sparse, but there was a stick rack in one corner and a delicious-smelling stew over the fire and a large table set for seven. Mitch was enchanted by all of it. He put his stick up and drank and ate, for he was hungry and thirsty. Afterwards, the reality of the day’s events kicked in. He would have cried, had he the energy, but all he could manage was to walk upstairs and collapse into one of the seven beds there.

After dark, the owners of the house finally returned home, hockey players all. They were puzzled to see that someone had been there, and had left a hockey stick, but they ate and were merry as usual before they went upstairs to bed.

“Oh my God,” said Willy, staring at the face on his pillow. “I think this kid might be even prettier than me.” The other hockey players gathered around to look, for they did not believe such a thing could be possible, but at last they agreed that the young man was - at the very least - adorable, and let him sleep. Of course, Willy pouted a good deal about the situation, but Mo and Gards agreed to bunk together, and so the problem was, one might say, put to bed.

The next morning Mitch woke up and was a little weirded out by the number of hockey players watching him, but they were friendly and kind, and soon he had poured out his whole story to them despite their frequent interjections.

It was Freddy, the wisest and quietest Leaf, who spoke when he was done: “Your uncle will soon find out you’re alive, if he’s as good a sorcerer as you say. You’ll have to stay inside when we’re out doing our chores, and you can’t answer the door for anything.”

“Are there any, like, indoor chores I can do?” Mitch asked, fearful of becoming a burden.

“How are you at cooking and cleaning?” Willy asked.

“I have no idea,” said Mitch, and they all shrugged.

The first few days were remarkably easy, though, and they settled into a rhythm in no time at all: chores in the morning, hockey at night. Nik would leave first, patrolling the forest for any sign of trouble, sword at his belt. Willy, Zach, and Brownie were always next, and each day would bring home a nice deer or some particularly succulent vegetables for lunch and dinner. Mo and Gards, always together, would chop firewood the morning through. And Freddy, up since the dawn tending their cow and chickens, took their spare eggs to market. Each day, he was the last of all to leave, and each day, he took care to remind Mitch that he mustn’t open the door to strangers.

This, it turned out, was good advice, for back at the castle the prince regent was growing restless. 

“Mirror, mirror, whom I own,  
“Who now is the biggest danger to my throne?”

“You, my king, no doubt think you have won,  
“But the prince’s sweet smile still shines as the sun,  
“He’s safe in a cabin deep in the woods,  
“And if he returns you’ll be deposed for good.”

“What!” shouted the prince regent, attempting to summon Bozak. But the huntsman was long fled, and his impotent rage sought another outlet. It came in the form of an idea.

The prince regent disguised himself as a peasant man, bent and cloaked against the chill, and took himself to the cabin in the woods where Prince Mitch resided with the seven Leafs. But though he knocked and called out promises to sell the prince a beautiful pair of skates, Mitch refused to open the door to him.

“Someone was here,” said Nik, when the Leafs had all returned, and they all agreed that Mitch had done the right thing.

The next day the prince regent returned once again, peddling magic stick tape, but Mitch again remained steadfast, and the Leafs agreed once more that it had been his wicked uncle.

On the third day, however, after a long night of experimenting, the prince regent returned once more. This time, though, he did not bring anything to sell. Instead, he sat on the Leafs’ doorstep, and wept bitterly, until the soft heart of the prince was moved to open the door.

“Are you alright?” Mitch asked the old man before him, and the prince regent grinned inwardly. On the outside, however, he spun a tale of such great woe that Mitch could not help but weep for him, finally spinning a series of jokes so compelling that even the wicked prince regent had to laugh.

“You’re a kind child,” the prince regent said, when his laughter had subsided. “I don’t have much to give you, but here’s an apple, for you at least deserve something almost as sweet as you are.”

“Thank you,” said the prince, and, to be polite, he took a bite.

The moment the flesh of the apple entered his mouth, Mitch fell as one dead, and the prince regent cackled all the way home.

When the Leafs returned home, they wept bitterly at the sight of Mitch on the floor, but none could feel a pulse and nothing they tried could bring him back from his deathly slumber. So they laid him out on the bed that had once been Willy’s and wept around his body all night.

It came to pass that a noble prince of the land of Arizona, fair of face and large of nostril, was riding in these woods with his faithful retainers when he heard the lamentation of the Leafs.

“Lord Kadri, do you hear that?” he asked.

“It sounds as if it’s coming from over there, Prince Auston,” the lord responded.

The prince gestured for his other retainer to investigate. “There’s a house,” said Sir Leo, when he returned, “over that hill, and it sounds as though many voices are weeping for a great hurt.”

So Prince Auston went to see what it was. Inside the house, he found seven large men weeping over the body of a leaner one. He looked as if he was merely sleeping, cheeks still rosy despite his apparent demise, and without asking Auston crossed the room and knelt beside the bed. Carefully, he placed a mirror in front of the man’s face.

It fogged over.

“He’s alive!” one of the Leafs cried, but then they all stood looking at one another as though they didn’t know what to do.

Then the tallest man spoke. “Sit him up,” he said to Auston, and Auston found himself obeying. The tall man pounded the non-corpse on the back once, twice, three times, and with a choking cough a bite of apple came free of the man’s mouth.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, freezing as he caught sight of the man holding him up. “Wait, who are you?”

“I’m Prince Auston, of Arizona,” Auston replied. “But who are you, and how did you come here?”

Prince Mitch retold his story for the benefit of the newcomers, and then concluded with a new piece of information: “It was my Uncle Gary. I can’t believe I fell for that trick!”

“Want some help getting rid of him?” Auston asked.

Mitch looked at him consideringly. “You know, I kind of think I might.”

And so the eleven of them rode into the kingdom proper, chatting along the way until they felt like old friends. At last they reached the castle, and burst into the courtyard like a group possessed.

“Uncle Gary, come out here at once!” called Mitch, sounding rather braver than he looked. The prince regent startled in his tower room, but he could not escape. The Leafs below had split up into groups, searching the castle methodically, and there was no way out of the tower save down a single staircase.

A single staircase upon which he could now hear the echoing of boots.

As Auston shouldered his way through the door, he nearly froze at the sight of the diabolical laboratory within the tower, but Mitch was behind him, prodding him forward, and forward they went. 

At last, Mitch spotted his uncle, and leapt at him with a cry of triumph, but the prince regent dodged him, took to the window, and _jumped_.

There was a terrible noise, and an even more terrible silence.

“I know this is bad timing,” Mitch said at last, turning to Auston, “but would you marry me?”

And marry they did.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Just three more to write! It's good to be under a week, though. This has been a little exhausting, and I want hockey back.


End file.
